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bottle； but because his father thought he was learning bad manners。
This he imparted to me in confidence at the time； and I remember how
it increased my oppressive awe of Mr。 Pickering； who had appeared to
me in glimpses as a sort of high priest of the proprieties。 Mr。
Pickering was a widowera fact which seemed to produce in him a sort
of preternatural concentration of parental dignity。 He was a
majestic man； with a hooked nose； a keen dark eye； very large
whiskers； and notions of his own as to how a boyor his boy； at any
rateshould be brought up。 First and foremost； he was to be a
〃gentleman〃； which seemed to mean； chiefly； that he was always to
wear a muffler and gloves； and be sent to bed； after a supper of
bread and milk； at eight o'clock。 School…life； on experiment； seemed
hostile to these observances； and Eugene was taken home again； to be
moulded into urbanity beneath the parental eye。 A tutor was provided
for him； and a single select companion was prescribed。 The choice；
mysteriously； fell on me； born as I was under quite another star； my
parents were appealed to； and I was allowed for a few months to have
my lessons with Eugene。 The tutor； I think； must have been rather a
snob； for Eugene was treated like a prince； while I got all the
questions and the raps with the ruler。 And yet I remember never
being jealous of my happier comrade； and striking up； for the time；
one of those friendships of childhood。 He had a watch and a pony and
a great store of picture…books； but my envy of these luxuries was
tempered by a vague compassion which left me free to be generous。 I
could go out to play alone； I could button my jacket myself； and sit
up till I was sleepy。 Poor Pickering could never take a step without
asking leave； or spend half an hour in the garden without a formal
report of it when he came in。 My parents； who had no desire to see
me inoculated with importunate virtues； sent me back to school at the
end of six months。 After that I never saw Eugene。 His father went
to live in the country； to protect the lad's morals； and Eugene
faded； in reminiscence； into a pale image of the depressing effects
of education。 I think I vaguely supposed that he would melt into
thin air； and indeed began gradually to doubt of his existence； and
to regard him as one of the foolish things one ceased to believe in
as one grew older。 It seemed natural that I should have no more news
of him。 Our present meeting was my first assurance that he had
really survived all that muffling and coddling。
I observed him now with a good deal of interest； for he was a rare
phenomenonthe fruit of a system persistently and uninterruptedly
applied。 He struck me； in a fashion； as certain young monks I had
seen in Italy； he had the same candid； unsophisticated cloister face。
His education had been really almost monastic。 It had found him
evidently a very compliant； yielding subject； his gentle affectionate
spirit was not one of those that need to be broken。 It had
bequeathed him； now that he stood on the threshold of the great
world； an extraordinary freshness of impression and alertness of
desire； and I confess that； as I looked at him and met his
transparent blue eye； I trembled for the unwarned innocence of such a
soul。 I became aware； gradually； that the world had already wrought
a certain work upon him and roused him to a restless； troubled self…
consciousness。 Everything about him pointed to an experience from
which he had been debarred； his whole organism trembled with a
dawning sense of unsuspected possibilities of feeling。 This
appealing tremor was indeed outwardly visible。 He kept shifting
himself about on the grass； thrusting his hands through his hair；
wiping a light perspiration from his forehead； breaking out to say
something and rushing off to something else。 Our sudden meeting had
greatly excited him； and I saw that I was likely to profit by a
certain overflow of sentimental fermentation。 I could do so with a
good conscience； for all this trepidation filled me with a great
friendliness。
〃It's nearly fifteen years； as you say；〃 he began； 〃since you used to
call me 'butter…fingers' for always missing the ball。 That's a long
time to give an account of； and yet they have been； for me； such
eventless； monotonous years； that I could almost tell their history
in ten words。 You； I suppose； have had all kinds of adventures and
travelled over half the world。 I remember you had a turn for deeds
of daring； I used to think you a little Captain Cook in roundabouts；
for climbing the garden fence to get the ball when I had let it fly
over。 I climbed no fences then or since。 You remember my father； I
suppose； and the great care he took of me？ I lost him some five
months ago。 From those boyish days up to his death we were always
together。 I don't think that in fifteen years we spent half a dozen
hours apart。 We lived in the country； winter and summer； seeing but
three or four people。 I had a succession of tutors； and a library to
browse about in； I assure you I am a tremendous scholar。 It was a
dull life for a growing boy； and a duller life for a young man grown；
but I never knew it。 I was perfectly happy。〃 He spoke of his father
at some length； and with a respect which I privately declined to
emulate。 Mr。 Pickering had been； to my sense； a frigid egotist；
unable to conceive of any larger vocation for his son than to strive
to reproduce so irreproachable a model。 〃I know I have been
strangely brought up；〃 said my friend； 〃and that the result is
something grotesque； but my education； piece by piece； in detail；
became one of my father's personal habits； as it were。 He took a
fancy to it at first through his intense affection for my mother and
the sort of worship he paid her memory。 She died at my birth； and as
I grew up； it seems that I bore an extraordinary likeness to her。
Besides； my father had a great many theories； he prided himself on
his conservative opinions； he thought the usual American laisser…
aller in education was a very vulgar practice； and that children were
not to grow up like dusty thorns by the wayside。 〃So you see；〃
Pickering went on； smiling and blushing； and yet with something of
the irony of vain regret； 〃I am a regular garden plant。 I have been
watched and watered and pruned； and if there is any virtue in tending
I ought to take the prize at a flower show。 Some three years ago my
father's health broke down； and he was kept very much within doors。
So； although I was a man grown； I lived altogether at home。 If I was
out of his sight for a quarter of an hour he sent some one after me。
He had severe attacks of neuralgia； and he used to sit at his window；
basking in the sun。 He kept an opera…glass at hand； and when I was
out in the garden he used to watch me with it。 A few days before his
death I was twenty…seven years old； and the most innocent youth； I
suppose； on the continent。 After h